Gently, Sweetly, Quite Serenely
by Harmony Sunsinger
Summary: Written for dn contest's Theater prompt. "Holy Hell! We're trapped in this place with a known serial killer?" Again, written under the influence of first nyquil, then red wine. XD Rated for graphic character death, gore, wtfery, and all-around creepiness.


Title: Gently, Sweetly, Quite Serenely

Author: Sun

Prompt: Theater

Characters: L, Light, Misa, Matt, Mello, Matsuda, Takada, B

Rating: MA

Genre: AU with Canon ties, Horror, Suspense, Dark, Crack

Word Count: 4684

Summary: "Holy hell! We're trapped in this place with a _known serial killer_?!"

Warnings: Graphic character death, gore, suspense, wtfery, and all-around creepiness.

A/N: The B included in this is the same B from my AU where he's not a total _danger_, per say – just a wee bit fruity. XD lol, okay, _a lot_ fruity.

**--beginning--**

This place – _wherever_ it is, _whatever _it is – is dark. And _cold_ – unbearably cold. And _strange_. Yes, this is strange. He lifts his head, thought muddled and vision swimming; looking around, he manages to sit up before working himself slowly to his feet. In the distance, he can hear voices – loud, angry, _frightened_ voices that don't belong, that have _faces_, he's sure of it!

Stumbling a little, he manages to cross the rather large yet starkly pitch-black space he occupies, coming to what feels like a closed door. Grappling a bit against the wood, he finds the knob, cool to the touch, and twists it.

Nothing.

He jiggles it, frustrated – why won't it _open_? his mind screams, frantic, panicked. He doesn't like _small_ places, and he doesn't like _dark_ places, and he _sure as shit_ doesn't like _small_, _dark_ places. Sucking in a shaky breath, he pounds on the door.

It takes him several moments to realize that the finicky voices on the other side of the door have stopped, have _ceased_ and _desisted_, and he stops pounding, eyes wide as his face presses against the smooth surface of the door. _Come back!_ he pleads, unsure of whether he does so with his brain or his mouth _big pink brain full of swirls and worms and dark thoughts and darker memories, that pulsating organ between one's ears that squishes oh so nicely when you tighten your grip on the skull in just the right way_.

But he knows that it's his squishy brain that enjoys the frightened squealing of mankind, not his mouth, so it must be his brain that screams it. He opens his mouth to allow actual words to join the thoughts, but, before he can utter a sound, the door opens from the other side, swinging away from him. With a startled cry, he falls forward, dragging nails against the rough denim of blue jeans.

Picking himself back up off the dirty floor, he stares up, wide-eyed, into equally wide eyes. Grey eyes, sunken in, beautifully, _voraciously_, familiar.

His mouth twists into a wide grin that even _he_ knows is semi-crazed. "L."

The eyes narrow. "B."

Everyone else in the brightly lit room watch the two; Light is slightly startled by the similarities between them. "What's going on?" he demands, glaring directly at the detective, who was busy observing the man before him.

B's crimson eyes dart back and forth between them all, soaking in their faces and the names spinning and hovering just above their heads; the frightening part of it is the lack of numbers above some of their heads. He tilts his head, his thumb pushing upward against his bottom lip as his eyes widen, and he grins once more. "Oh, what silly, silly tricks are these?" he questions no one in particular, snickering quietly to himself. Most of these people are _dead_! It thrills him to see it. The only ones that seem to still be living are the small white-haired one, the blonde girl, and the tall, dark-haired one in the business suit. His eyes linger on their swiveling names.

Misa glances back and forth between the nonsensical newcomer and Light. "Light-kun, I don't like this," she says softly. "He scares Misa." She steps closer to him, shivering beneath B's stare, which only causes him to grin much more broadly. Behind them both, Takada glares at Misa's back as the squealy girl cuddles up close to Light.

B's eyes return to L's; their nearly identical gazes lock, and L steps forward, head tilting ever so slightly to the right as he watches B very closely.

"You have returned," he says simply, stating a fact.

B tilts his head to the left, mirroring the object of his obsession. "I went somewhere?" he asks, enraptured.

L is not amused; his features give way to no outward reaction. "It would seem that we have all gone somewhere," he states, and B looks up, at the darkly painted ceiling, before looking around at the large space that they are in. He sees speckled carpet that cuts off into black tile, the tile running alongside a green and white striped counter; on the counters are several silver napkin and straw dispensers set before a pair of seemingly old cash registers. On either end of the long counter sits a drink dispenser. Set apart from the counter, on its own set of gloriously shiny wheels, is a rather large popcorn popper.

Slowly, he stalks forward, his eyes large as he takes in the monstrosity's appearance. Reaching out, he lets his hand hover close to the shiny kettle; it was warm, at the very least. His eyes widen, head tilting almost comically, as he looks back at L. "What is this place?" he asks hoarsely.

Light steps forward, though he keeps his distance from B; Misa's too weirded out to get any closer to the unkempt newcomer, but Takada isn't. She smirks nastily at Misa as she takes her rightful place at Light's side. "It looks to be a movie theater," Light says, looking around, his eyes lingering on the popper. "Strange."

"Yes," L agrees, coming forward, "this is quite strange." He watches Light out of the corner of his eye. "Perhaps this is another trick of Kira's."

Light snorts at that, shooting L an annoyed sideways look. "Perhaps this is another trick of the famous L."

L's resulting grin becomes much creepier when B joins in with one of his own. "I believe that we have already established that if I still wished to prove that Yagami-kun were Kira, I would not have kidnapped you away to a _movie theater_ of all places." He peers down at the carpet, which seems slightly grimy; it is at this moment that he is glad Watari suggested he wear tennis shoes that day.

There's a slight coughing sound from the back of the group; everyone turns and looks toward it. Matt's standing off to the side, Mello right beside him, smashing a finished cigarette into a nearby ashtray. As he pulls his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and pulls one from the pack, he offers it to everyone else; the only one who takes him up on it is Mello, and the duo light up simultaneously.

"I don't know about anyone else," Mello says, breathing out the smoke, "but I think it'd be a good idea to get the fuck outta this place."

Near edges closer to L's side; the two of them watch Matt and Mello closely. "Ineloquent as usual, Mello," the older detective says, "but correct. Our best course of action would be to find some way to leave this place."

"Well, we've already tried the front doors," Light says, Takada nodding beside him. "They're locked, bolted shut; won't give in the least."

L nods. "I expected as much."

Mello smirks. "Maybe we should split up into groups and shake the place down."

L blinks once at his second successor. "That idea seems fairly sound," he says simply. "It would raise our chances of finding a possible exit by at least twenty-two percent." As L turns, the second-best of his possible successor's rolls his eyes. "Yagami-kun, you and I will venture to the storeroom below us; the chances of finding an exit there are slim to none, but present nonetheless. Every possibility must be explored in a situation such as this."

He turns to look at his three successors. "Near, Mello, and Matt – you three will go up the stairs, into the projection area. There may be a window or some type of roof access." Mello sneers at Near, who ignores him completely; Matt just rolls his eyes, taking a long, annoyed drag from his cigarette.

"Finally, Miss Takada, Matsuda-san, and Amane will explore the main floor; perhaps there is a back door that we missed, or an emergency exit that has yet to be locked." Misa and Takada share a grimace, and Matsuda just looks at the two of them.

"Wha-What about _him_?" He points to B, who has begun to fiddle with the switches on the popper, intrigued by it.

L turns slightly to look at B. "Ah, yes – B shall accompany Light and I into the storeroom."

"Who _is_ he?" Light asks, watching the strange man.

Mello and Matt share a glance; the boys had heard stories while at Wammy's, but neither had ever known anything concrete about the elusive and mysterious B. Near's eyes dart in L's direction but never make contact; it is the only sign of his interest in the subject.

There is a tense pause. "He was meant to be L before me," he says, unsure of how exactly to explain Beyond Birthday to the rest of them. "But – something is not quite right with him."

Beside Matsuda, Misa snorts. "Even Misa-Misa can see that."

Light shoots her a look; L doesn't react. "His real name is Beyond Birthday; he actually became a serial killer, called simply 'B', that I helped catch – in Los Angeles, of all places." Only his eyes betray his unfounded amusement at this fact. "Strangely enough, he was one of the first victims of Kira, before I was assigned the case." He says this while observing B quite closely.

Matsuda's eyes widen almost comically; "Holy hell! We're trapped in this place with a _known serial killer_?!" Everyone turns and stares at B, who just smiles, a bit lopsided, at them.

Mello sags his shoulders a little, flicking his cigarette off to the side. Near follows it as it flies, and his eyes widen when he feels Mello grasp the neck of his shirt firmly, dragging him along the floor behind him. Matt stares at his best friend with mild surprise – which grows to _moderate_ surprise when Mello grabs his shirt as well and tugs him along. "Come now, boys!" he calls out, slightly sarcastic, slightly bored. "Let's go find a window to jump out of – or some shit." The trio disappear into a dark hallway; the rest hear a door slam in the distance before silence overwhelms the lobby once more.

L watches them go before turning, hands in his pockets, to Light. "Come, B," he says, and Light stares as B approaches, still aptly looking around. Sticking close to L on one side, B on the opposite, Light follows the detective and the serial killer around a corner, to an open door revealing a flight of steep stairs. The three descend, leaving Matsuda, Takada, and Misa alone in the lobby.

Misa huffs in Takada's direction; _Misa-Misa will find the way out – and then Light will love her _way _more than stuffy ole Takada!_ Satisfied with this reasoning, Misa sets off for one of the various theaters, never saying a word to either Matsuda or Takada.

The Kira spokeswoman watches Misa go, and leaves the room in the opposite direction. Matsuda just stares after them.

**--upstairs--**

Mello's the first one into the projection booth, Matt and Near right behind him – when they reach it, it's really more of a _room_, vast and _much_ bigger than they'd expected. "Huh," Matt says blowing a smoke ring toward Near, who makes a disgusted face in return. "Would'ja look at that?"

Mello shoots him a slightly perturbed look over his shoulder. "Shut the fuck up and start lookin' for a way outta this deranged mindfuck." He starts walking off, heading deeper into the spacious room. Looking around at all the huge, steel machinery, Mello frowns. "When the hell was this place last open – the _'60s_?" His usual partner in crime shrugs beside him, starting forward.

Turning off to the left, Mello's distracted by a strange table littered with different tools and colors of tape, while outfitted with a very strange pulley system. "What the hell…?"

Behind him, Near's busy inspecting what looks to be _another_ table, only set much lower to the ground, and it's all grey, completely metallic. There's a rather tall, slightly intimidating thin pole standing up on the right side of it, and on the left side, another pole, though this one is mostly hidden in the center of a movie reel. Curious, Near looks to the bottom of it, finding a cord; seeing the wall outlet just behind the strange table, he moves toward it. Only one way to find out what the contraption does…

On the other side of the projection room, Matt freezes suddenly as everything goes pitch black. "Ah, _fuck_," he mumbles. A few feet away, Mello groans loudly. "Who the hell turned out the goddamn light?" he roars. "Near! Jus' 'cause there's no toys for you to dick around with doesn't mean-"

He's cut off by a very sudden, very _close_ scream; it starts off shrill and bloodcurdling, and Mello leaps away from it, backward, all the hairs on his body standing straight up. "_What the fuck_?!" The scream fades off into a sickening gurgle as Mello gropes around the wall nearest him for the light switch. He can hear splashing and splattering in the dark in front of him, and there's a weird rustling at his feet as he walks along the wall. "Matt!" he calls out, his voice laced with more authority than panic. "Matty! Help me look for the damn switch-!" He stops short when he hits some button that's the size of his palm; there's a loud, deep whirring noise, and a white light starts to flicker to his right. Squinting, Mello recognizes the contraption as an old-style movie projector – _I must've started it by accident_ – and he spins on his heel, trying to use the flickering light to see the rest of the otherwise dark room.

"Oh, _shit_!" His voice echoes in the large projection room, and all he can think as his eyes widen exponentially is _Dear God, who knew Near had so much fucking blood to him_?! The floor is _covered_ with the fastly coagulating liquid, and the red pools further and further along the tile. Near lays just a few short feet away amid a pile of shiny – _bloody?!_ - movie film, his white curls and clothes soaked with crimson, and his grey eyes are wide and staring, his mouth trapped in a silent, tortured scream. His head's cocked at a funny angle, revealing the split at his adam's apple. Mello gags slightly at the sight of his archenemy's bared, bloody esophagus, and he whirls around to find the one Wammy boy he _does_ give a flying fuck about.

"Matt!" he hollers, a _tiny_ bit of edge to his tone now. There's another cry from the other side of the monstrous projector, and Mello lets loose a loud, anguished noise as he watches Matt, covered in blood, tumble right out the open projector window. The impossible-to-cross space between them doesn't even _begin_ to register for Mello; he just _reacts_, throwing himself against the projector in an attempt to save his old friend. The metal zipper of his leather jacket makes an unnerving scratching sound as he slides downward, and there's a sudden tug on his hair as his ears fill with the echoing _crunch!_ of Matt's landing.

Mello has no time to grieve, no real time for reality to sink in; he chokes out a strangled, surprised cry as he feels himself being pulled into the mechanism of the projector. _My fucking hair's cau_- He can't even get out a single word as his head is forced against and then into the gears, the space between them barely large enough to allow him to hear the cracking of his own skull and to feel the blood rushing across his temple before smashing his head into itself.

**--mainfloor—**

Misa yelps when the lights suddenly disappear, throwing her, completely alone – _where _are_ you, Light-kun?! _– into the intimidating darkness of an empty movie theater. Her first instinct is to not even move, but strange noises from the lobby spur her into action. She spins around, though the blackness that surrounds her makes it a dizzying motion, and she topples over onto her butt.

Her breath catches at the sound of a shrill scream, and she stares up, where it was coming from. _Those three boys… they went upstairs…_ Something was wrong, she knew – _terribly_ wrong. Cold overcame her as the scream faded, and she could see a flickering light coming from close to the ceiling of the theater. Shoving herself back to her feet, Misa blinks at the strange light, trying her best to figure out what it was. _Is that a _strobe_?_ she wonders, but she never gets her answer. In the next second, she watches, jaw dropped, as the red-haired boy from the lobby freefalls right out the open window!

Shrieking, she runs full-speed for the theater door, which she'd left wide open – _Thank Kami!!_ Emerging back into the lobby, Misa's momentarily thankful for the emergency lights that have managed to effectively light up the large space – until she runs past the popper and around the counter to find Takada, twitching, on the tile floor, blood quickly draining out of her into a pool; a shiny pair of metal tongs have been shoved through her throat, impaling her. Squealing in surprise and horror, she turns and flees back the way she came; sliding a bit in the blood, Misa accidentally trips on the slight rise in the floor when it abruptly becomes carpet. Falling forward, she manages to catch herself on the popper and attempts to pull herself back up to her feet. _I need to find Light and get the hell out of here!_

The popper rolls a bit, and Misa grapples with something just inside the clear door of it; a handle of some kind? Grabbing hold of it, she tugs forcefully on it, making it to her feet and pressing her face against the screen covering the bottom of the inside – just as the handle gives way, swinging forward. The hot kettle directly above her head also swings forward, spilling its blazing contents onto her head. She lets out a shrill shriek, trying to throw herself backward, to get _out _of the damn thing, but her hair is caught in the kettle, and the entire popper just rolls with her. She can't hear anything but the subtle sounds her skin and scalp make as they melt away, the scorching grease dissolving all traces of her features and hair, but her heels make squelching noises as they slide frantically against the carpet, now soggy with Takada's blood.

After just a few more moments, Misa stops kicking, stops screeching, stops breathing.

**--downstairs--**

The storeroom at the bottom of the stairs is cool and dim; Light takes a moment to look around at it as L goes off to the left, and B wanders to his right. As Light takes in the big picture, L observes the softly humming ice machine shoved up against one wall. It strikes him as a bit strange that the thing is running, here in what is practically a basement, when the theater above is completely abandoned. Beside the ice machine, sitting in a puddle of clear water – barely discernable from the white tile - is a moderately sized ice bucket, silver and shiny; looks like steel, but when L delicately grasps the handle and lifts it off the dirty floor, he finds it to be quite light, though it's size makes it somewhat awkward to hold. Stooping slightly, he sets it back down on the floor.

B swallows as he looks over the racks and shelves of supplies: bags of popcorn kernels as large as feedbags, jugs of thick, yellow butter, stacks and stacks of multi-colored packaged candy, and more boxes and unopened packages of paper cups and plastic lids than he's ever seen in one single place.

Light jumps when the lights suddenly go out; neither B nor L react. Sucking in a deep, harsh breath in a pathetic attempt to make himself feel better, the college student spins in a complete circle. "Ryuzaki?" he calls out. "Where are you?"

For a minute, nothing.

"Here," he hears from a few feet to his left, "though you should probably pay more attention to _B_ in this situation."

Light's entire body runs cold as that sinks in; he turns to his right, unable to see _anything_. Tentatively, he tries, "B?"

There is no answer.

He frowns. "B?"

Silence.

"That's not good," L says in a slightly amused tone.

"So now the lights are out, and we've lost the resident serial killer." Light curses under his breath, turning toward L's voice. "What are we going to do?"

There's a pause. "There should be a breaker down here somewhere," the detective muses through the dark. He shuffles forward a bit, trying to determine, from memory alone, where it is against the walls.

Suddenly, both of them stop in their tracks, stilled by the piercing cry from up above. Light whirls around, which only succeeds in dizzying him. "What was that?" he demands.

L has gone still as well, staring in the direction he knows the stairs lie. "I'm not sure," he states softly, mildly intrigued. "Logically, I would assume that someone is hurt."

"No lie."

Taking another step forward, L continues, "The question, though, is who?"

Light shakes his head. "Didn't sound like Takada or-" He's cut off by another scream from up above, this time less muffled and much more frantic. His eyes widen. "That's Misa!" The wailing doesn't let up, and Light groans in frustration. "What is going _on_ up there?!" he cries out, starting forward and hoping he hits the stairs.

"Light, that's not the right direction-" L manages to get out before there's a crashing sound; L knows _that_ came from the stairs. "Amane, is that you?" he calls out, apprehensive now. He knows that it is not Misa; there's only a three percent chance that she hasn't been harmed.

The cold, firm blow to his face, right into his nose, surprises L, and he doesn't even have time to fully react; he stumbles backward, slipping in the melted ice on the floor. His back hits the tile hard, effectively knocking the wind from him. He can't even cry out as the action is repeated; all he can hear as he is bludgeoned repeatedly is a faint ringing noise, and he knows without a doubt that it is the ice bucket meeting his head, crushing him.

"Ryuzaki?!" Light hollers, and he's deeply disturbed by the repetitious clanging that he can hear echoing through the small storeroom. The entire place runs cold, though he's quite sure that's not the reason for the goose bumps running across his arms; instinctively, he launches himself backward, away from the offending noise. "Misa!" He scrambles across the wet floor, paying no heed to his soaking shirt and slacks as he slides away from what sounds like the famed detective's violent death. "Takada!" His voice is coming out high-pitched now, _pleading_. Light's absolutely terrified, and he twists himself over, onto his stomach; pulling himself up, he dashes forward, his entire body smacking into the wall. Quickly, he gropes around in the complete blackness, releasing a victorious cry when he finds a smooth box set into the wall.

_The breaker?! _Adrenaline floods through his body, turning him ice-cold, when he hears the final clang of the ice bucket meeting the tile, and Light heaves a panicked cry as he wrenches the door open, his slick hands fumbling clumsily with the switches.

There's a spark, and Light's breath catches when he tries to pull away from it, only to remain frozen in place. Every muscle in his body seizes, and he yells loudly as harsh, burning agony rips through him. His breath rushes completely out of his lungs, and he can't seem to _pull it back in_. Panic sets in for a brief moment before everything goes dark.

As Light slowly collapses down the wall, his entire body seizing and quivering, the lights in the storeroom suddenly begin to flicker back to life. Crouching low beside the staircase, B blinks his eyes and uncovers his ears, his vision trying to readjust to the steadily flickering brightness. Pupils dilate as he turns his head and stares at the shaking figure looming over Light's still-twitching body.

Matsuda turns, chest heaving, eyes wide and wild. Those fire-filled eyes settle on B, who just sits there and stares.

"You understand?" the crazed policeman asks, breathless. "It-it was something that had to be done! That only I-that only I could do! Not _one_ of them was right, not right at all… Insanity is-it's the inability to love – to _spread the love_ – and _none of them_ could love another human being – _not for real_!"

As Matsuda gradually becomes more manic throughout his speech, B stands and slowly comes forward. He can barely hear the wholly unfamiliar man ranting before him _the voices are loud and they don't appreciate his incessant rambling_, and his eyes linger on the blood stains all over Matsuda's grey suit. It's shiny, wet, and B's quite sure that it's from _the others_.

Stopping, he turns his body while never moving his feet, and his left eye begins to twitch when he finds L's body lying on the ground before the still-rumbling ice machine, the floor now wet with melted ice and scarlet blood; L's face appears to have caved in upon itself, and B's eyes widen at the sight. Without a sound, B straightens himself, turning back to face the still soundlessly raving Matsuda.

Frowning deeply, B approaches Matsuda, never uttering a word as he dives forward, wrapping his arms around the investigator. With a panicked cry escaping Matsuda, the two collapse, and _kill him_ B pins him down easily despite his struggle. Yelling wordlessly, Matsuda _killed L _flails his arms; reacting fluidly, B knocks his hands away, narrowing his eyes as his fingers curl around Matsuda's throat. Gritting his teeth, he strengthens his grip, straddling Matsuda as he lifts him up off the floor slightly. His arms jerk sporadically, and he begins to shake his prey; the officer grunts and chokes, struggling to suck air into lungs. He kicks his legs behind B and attempts to hit the former Wammy resident; B ignores his pleading eyes, his fastly weakening attempts to set himself free.

A few more seemingly endless minutes, and everything goes black as Matsuda takes his last breath.

**--end--**

He bolts upright, glad to find himself in his bed, glad to be covered with sweat, and _ecstatic_ to feel the breath rushing through his lungs. Slowly, he feels himself all over, running his hands through his hair, patting his throat. Sliding out from underneath the blankets, he stands, crossing the bedroom and looking himself over in the mirror.

_No marks or bruises…_ he thinks, quite grateful to be awake and out of that hellish nightmare. Leaning against the dresser, Matsuda begins the slightly exhausting process of taking each and every one of his pills. Grimacing as he takes them without water, he marks each one of a mental list as they make their way down his throat. _Celexa, check. Zoloft, check. Prozac, check. Wellbutrin, check._

As he takes the last one, he reaches over and hits the play button on his flashing answering machine. It beeps once, loudly, before playing the message:

_Matsu-kun! Misa-Misa just wanted to call and see how you were feeling this morning; you're probably chalk full of meds right now. Just please try not to start drinking until at least three o' clock today, it makes Misa worry about you. I know today is a bad day for you, but Light died three years ago! It should get better eventually. Anyway, call me back! Muah!_

Matsuda smiles as it beeps once more and falls silent. Shaking his head, he makes his way into the kitchen and pours himself a cup of coffee, sipping at it leisurely. Taking the cordless in his hand, he smirks as he dials Misa's number. "My therapist is gonna have a laugh come Tuesday."


End file.
